


This Ship (Ain't Never Gonna Sink)

by petroltogo



Series: Shipping (Not Yet Sailed) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And Why It's A Dangerous Pasttime For Terrorist Organisations, Attempt at Humor, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Bix ships it, Bix the HYDRA Goon - Freeform, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Morality, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Protective Bucky Barnes, Shipping, Snarky Tony, This Could Only Happen To Tony, Tumblr, Very Dubious Morality, because hydra, protective winter soldier, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-12 15:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7939663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petroltogo/pseuds/petroltogo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HYDRA kidnaps Tony Stark. What happens next should be obvious—the torture, the snark, the dramatic rescue. You know, the usual. Except.</p><p>Except Bix—the newest self-proclaimed faceless HYDRA goon—really ships WinterIron.</p><p> </p><p>Or: Why faceless HYDRA goons aren’t allowed to have a tumblr account.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Build-Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is me dipping my toe into the beauty that is the Avenger fandom. You may flee for your life and sanity now.
> 
> Bix is a fictional character and her views do not necessarily represent the views of this author. Please keep that in mind.
> 
> This fic isn't supposed to be taken too seriously but neither is it supposed to be crack. To be honest I only wanted to write the kidnapped!Tony/protective!WinterSoldier!Bucky trope (is that a trope? If not we really need to change that) and then Bix happened and I gave her an actual background/character/etc. Oops.

**It** started with a joke.

Bix, who preferred to be called Faceless HYDRA Goon WS2500 just because, had only worked in the secret underground lab in god-forsaken-nowhere for five weeks when the announcement was made. An announcement that shouldn't have affected her in any way, beyond a very vague sense of unease perhaps. Certainly not a quiet meltdown in the ladies room because Bix didn't do meltdowns. 

It was completely ridiculous, really. She had completed all background and psychological check-ups, excelled in every mandatory training exercise up to date, and yet she still felt woefully unprepared for her first encounter with the infamous Winter Soldier.

Then again, this was the _Winter Soldier_ they were talking about. The world’s most infamous assassin. HYDRA’s most feared and conveyed weapon. The man—if such a simple term could even be considered worthy of describing everything the Winter Soldier represented—who took physically impossible shots like other people downed tequila and still hit the bull’s eye. Every. Single. Time.

It didn’t hurt that he looked damn hot in leather either.

So, yes. She might or might not drum her fingers against the surface of her table more often than strictly necessary. Sue a girl for getting a little excited about finally meeting the man behind the legend.

Of course reality just had to rain on Bix’ happy little fangirl parade and prove the saying ‘You should never meet your idol’ right. It took less than half a minute of staring at the scarily blank face of the Winter Soldier to realise just how appropriate the word 'weapon' in reference to him really was. 

If the unresponsive _Asset_ with the dead eyes could even be classified as a ‘him’.

Bix had spent the last four years ruthlessly moving up the ranks of an international terrorist organisation. She’d committed enough crimes to know she’d never be able to look her best friend in the eyes ever again—not that it mattered, Vic was _gone_ —but that vacant expression on what would have otherwise been an attractive face still sent unpleasant shivers down her spine.

It was disturbing, plain and simple.

And it surprised Bix. Not that HYDRA was capable of such unspeakable acts, because that wasn’t surprising at all. In many ways Bix was still fresh meat, was still a recruit, still not fully trusted—because this was HYDRA, and trust only got you killed—but she wasn’t as blind or silly as her strawberry blonde hair and bright pink nails suggested. Bix had no illusions about the ugly garbage, hiding away in the organisation’s seedy underbelly. She was fully aware of the crimes, the _torture_ , glossed over by white lab coats and professional faces. 

The problem wasn’t ignorance. Bix had never been good at keeping her nose out of stuff she wasn’t supposed to know. The problem was that those terrible experiments and unspeakable actions, the sheer inhumanity of it all, didn’t bother her as much as it ought to. The knowledge didn’t weight down on her, didn’t eat at her. Instead it rolled off her skin like rain pelted off unrelenting glass, nothing but a mild inconvenience at best. 

That was who Bix was, who she’d always been. Long before HYDRA had ever gotten its grubby hands on her, and had tried to break something that was already twisted beyond recognition. 

No, what really surprised Bix was that, for the first time since Vic, she _cared_.

Not enough to go all Karate Kid on the other underlings to save the man, but enough to cause an uncomfortable, clenching sensation to rise in the pit of her stomach. One that reminded Bix dangerously of guilt.

She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. 

“We have to reprogram him,” the Winter Soldier’s handler announced, thankfully entirely unaware of Bix’ internal revelation. One that would probably get her killed.

His words gave her something to focus on at least. Technically Bix was just a lowly tech assistant at the moment but this was exactly the kind of situation she was trained for. 

“Again?” the head tech and her direct superior groaned with an odd mixture of frustration and resignation, even as he skimmed the files Bix reflexively handed him. They were thick, impressively so, and almost certainly incomplete. HYDRA was a bureaucratic nightmare on a good day but they weren’t stupid.

Information regarding the Winter Soldier Project was given out on a very strict need-to-know basis. It wasn’t a fool-proof system, otherwise nobody would even know of the existence of said project, but it had kept them afloat for decades, so there was that. Even Bix, who was being trained to become one of the soldier’s future techs, had barely scratched the surface of what essentially amounted to a decades long research project.

“Tell me about it,” the handler whined, looking remarkably like a haggard mother in the face of her spoiled offspring's impending tantrum. Which was a disturbing mental image, thank you very much brain. “Seventy fucking years and catching sight of a Captain fucking America poster still fucks with the god damn code! I swear, this guy has a thicker head than even Stark does. They’re like, made for each other or something.”

“What?” Bix blurted, caught off-guard by the lighthearted smalltalk, before her common sense could remind her that drawing attention was never a good thing where HYDRA was concerned. Whether you were ally or foe mattered little. 

The handler jerked, as though he had forgotten that she was in the same room. It was odd, careless even, and made Bix wonder how this man could possibly survive being in charge of the Winter Soldier. In a rare show of self-restraint, she managed to keep that particular thought to herself.

“Think about it,” the handler, she couldn’t remember his name for the life of her, recovered fast, she had to give him that. He also appeared completely unbothered by her presence, continued his jumbled explanation with wild gestures and a slightly manic gleam in his eyes, “the assassin and the self-made hero. It’s perfect! The public would eat it right up. Hell, might even push Stony off the OTP spot too, and god knows I’m getting sick of that shit spamming my feed!”

Her boss barked a rough laugh but Bix couldn’t help herself.

“What?” she asked again, less off-balance this time and a lot more incredulous. She didn’t understand half the words the handler had used, but had this man really just indicated the possibility of a romantic relationship between the Winter Soldier and _Tony Stark_? Or had she missed something? 

Was this supposed to be some sort of practical joke?

_See_ , a small voice in the back of her head crowed in triumph, _this is why you prefer computers over humans. Nothing they do or say makes a lick of sense._

Apparently though the time for bad jokes and explanations were over. 

“Just google it,” her boss snapped, thick eyebrows furrowing over narrowed eyes. 

He gestured for the Winter Soldier—the _Asset_ —to be placed on the monstrosity of a chair that Bix had until now successfully pretended not to notice. 

Then, seemingly recalling her tendency to take his words more literal than he intended, he tacked on an impatient, “ _After_ we’ve finished the re-programming.”

As the other techs around her began to pull up more files and data collections on their monitors, Bix shrugged off any pointless thoughts about Hollywood romances and got back to work. Because computer codes were something she understood, something Bix could make sense of. 

And in another world, that would have been the end of it.

*

The re-programming had went off without any of the usual complications Bix had been told to expect. She went home at half past five, over an hour earlier than usual. Right on time to get her mother's call, the one she usually avoided expertly. To distract herself from those thoughts she switched on the TV. Where Tony Stark’s smiling face greeted her. 

_Google it_.

It was a combination of all of those things and none of those things that had Bix reaching for her laptop, fingers itching to distract herself from the too many questionable emotions this god awful day had awoken within her. Mind begging for a relief from the world she cared too little about to pay attention to.

That was how Bix the faceless HYDRA goon discovered tumblr.

*

The next time Bix met the Winter Soldier— _Asset_ —her team had been called in as a secondary security measure only. Something had gone wrong during the last mission and the Asset’s left side had been damaged, bad enough for the meds to be called in. Considering his abnormal healing factor that was quite an impressive feat.

The techs were on standby, in case the injury triggered something unfavourable or some parts of the programming needed to be rewritten. No one was willing to take any risks where the Winter Soldier was concerned, even with a broad-shouldered man with dark red hair keeping him—the _Asset_ —compliant at all times.

Bix didn’t ask about the fate of the previous handler.

*

_Stony_ turned out to be a ship name, ‘ship’ meaning a (more often than not romantic) pairing of two characters or persons, and was short for Steve Rogers and Tony Stark. 

Bix, well. _Liked it_ would probably be a bit over the top, all things considered. Sure, the fanart was pretty hot (and so were quite a few of the fanfictions she stumbled across) but at the end of the day Steve Rogers was still Captain America and she was still a faceless HYDRA goon who liked staying alive too much to start a fan club for the archenemy.

That didn’t stop her from embracing the Avengers fandom with an enthusiasm that bordered on manic obsession though. Nor did it stop her from starting her own blog to share countless reasons about why Captain America would never be good enough for _her_ Tony with the rest of the world.

*

The Winter Soldier snapped.

There was no known trigger that had been activated, not even an emotionally charged, volatile situation. It happened in the lab, during a routine maintenance check-up. Two of the techies were testing and confirming the functionality of the metal arm, a third one was cataloguing the damage the Asset had suffered during its latest mission, to be cross-referenced later on.

Bix was in charge of inventory, which was really just a glorified way of saying that it was her job to keep track of all the weapons the Wint- _Asset_ had been assigned. Down to the last _fucking_ bullet. Some days it felt like she was playing Q to an emotionally stunted, out-of-control psychotic James Bond. Really, this was _not_ what she had signed up for.

It was tedious and boring and-

There was a sudden hiss from one of the techies, just as Bix counted the guns assembled before her one final time—and really, how do you lose a half-automatic machine gun in the ladies room?—and then the Winter Soldier _moved_.

It wasn’t a fight, could barely even be classified as an attack. There was no time for screams, no time for anything more than a startled, half-choked gasp before it was over again. Then the Winter Soldier stood, fluid and terrifying, amid a mess of broken bodies, and all Bix could do was stare.

Around her, people scrambled out of the way, some fleeing the room, another hitting the alarm button. One of the newer techs even grabbed a gun and fired, and honestly, Bix couldn’t decide if the kid was incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. It didn’t stop the Winter Soldier from throwing him bodily against a wall.

Bix doubted the kid would get up again.

It was only when the Winter Soldier stalked towards his next victim, a tech named Roderick Gluss she’d been working with for almost two months now, that Bix remembered the stand down order.

It was a code that had been designed specifically for these kinds of occurrences. A catch phrase that would cause the Winter Soldier to stand down immediately and acknowledge whoever had spoken the words as his new handler.

The most recent code was ‘In winter’s chilling grasp’. Bix personally suspected that this was the reason HYDRA agents weren’t allowed to have a sense of humour. It just never went well, always ended up embarrassing everyone involved.

Said code was also approximately four levels above her security clearance. Bix wondered if it would be worth intervening and revealing some of the true extent of knowledge she had gathered to her superiors. It wasn’t too late yet. She could still save her colleague.

She didn’t.

 

Help arrived half a minute later. They were too late to save Gluss but successfully subdued the rogue Winter Soldier before he could cause any more damage.

When the dust settled and the re-programming began, Bix accepted her promotion graciously.

*

Somewhere in between the high and low curve that was the Ironhawk fandom, Bix came to a startling realisation. For some reason (and really, there wasn’t a rational explanation for this, she hadn’t even _met_ any of these guys in real life) Tony Stark had become her favourite Avenger.

She had no idea how the arrogant bastard with the Gryffindor fetish had managed it. The guy wasn’t even an official Avenger for god’s sake—though the fandom definitely didn’t care. If anything it had force-adopted Stark with all the stubborn righteousness of a five year old child convinced that Santa was real, and refused to let him go again like the secret super villains all fans held dear to their hearts—yet there was no denying the truth.

Allowing a self-despairing groan to escape, Bix settled back into her couch and resolved to call her mom. Clearly she was in need of some actual human interaction.

Just one last chapter, and then she would get the phone.

Totally.

*

Bix stopped trying to remember the names and general appearance of the Winter Soldier’s handlers. They never lasted long enough to gain any influence beyond the power their position already offered them.

Besides Bix had yet to meet one she wasn’t glad to see gone.

*

The problem with loving a specific person instead of a pairing was that you tumbled from one pairing into the next one at a heartbeat—and every one of them could take your breath away.

Okay. _Almost_ every one.

That Stane/Stark fic the other day? No.

Just-

 _No_.

*

Another day, another incident, another re-programming.

It didn’t make much sense in Bix’ opinion. The Winter Soldier’s— _Asset_ ’s, god damn it, when would her stupid mind finally accept that that was all _it_ was?—eyes were as dead as they had always been, his movements smooth but mechanical. He had hesitated though, or so the newest handler claimed, and hesitating wasn’t part of the program.

So. 

Back to the workshop it was.

*

He had been right.

That stupid, blabbering, long dead fool of an ex-Winter Soldier-handler had been right.

The Winter Soldier and Tony Stark were totally ship-able. Like made-for-each-other, star-crossed-lover ship-able. There was just so much potential! How was it that nobody else saw this? Besides the fact that the Winter Soldier's existence wasn't common knowledge, that was. And yet Bix couldn't help it. She had seen the light and now it was impossible to _un_ see it. The possibilities were all-encompassing, mind-numbing, beautiful. The angst—oh god, the _Angst_ —but also the fluffiness and jesuschristhowhadshenotnoticedthisbefore?

IronSoldier was _meant to be_.

Well, maybe not IronSoldier. That sounded a little off. Starkoldier? Wintony? WinterIron? WinterMan?

WinterIron.

The potential, all the endless possibilities such a simple word could carry. It drove Bix’ inner fangirl wild, and yet.

Bix ground her teeth. The mere thought that she had some arrogant HYDRA bastard to thank for this, the thought that this nameless asshole had been _right all along_ \- was unbearable. 

But. _WinterIron_.

*

It was a mistake.

A single, stupid, honest to god mistake, caused by a toxic mixture of sleep deprivation, suppressed fangirling, stubbornness, pity and an almost suicidal urge to stick it to ‘the man’. It could have happened to anyone, really.

Fine, maybe not _anyone_. 

See, re-programming the Winter Soldier was a routine exercise for Bix. Had been, even before Captain fucking America came out of the damn ice like a second Jesus and the whole world got swept up in the superhero hype again. Nowadays an unresponsive Asset being dragged into their lab by a borderline panicking handler was old news at best.

It just happened. And it was always, _always_ the same.

Except this time it wasn’t.

Because this time, half-way through the tedious process of rattling off names and numbers and standing orders they had gone over a thousand times in the past two years, her supervisor left to get himself a cup of tea. He just- got up and _left_.

And suddenly, for the first time in her life, Bix found herself alone with the Winter Soldier. 

A motionless Winter Soldier, freshly wiped and everything, but still. For a single moment Bix could almost feel a sense of impending doom teasing her already fraying nerves. Then she continued repeating the standard information about anyone HYDRA considered relevant that the Wi- _Asset_ was supposed to know, like the well-trained drone she was.

“Hill, Maria. Status: alive. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Threat level: sufficient. Standing orders: Kill if encountered. Repeat."

It was a mind-numbing task that made Bix question every single time why in all these years of human experimentation the doctors had yet to find a way to leave those basic information intact during the wipe.

“Romanov, Natasha. Alias Black Widow. Status: alive. Avenger. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Threat level: substantial. Standing orders: Do not engage. Repeat."

She had asked once and had been treated to a four hour lecture about the complexity of brain cells and neurotransmitters that hadn't even answered her question.

Bix hadn’t asked again.

It wasn’t her place to ask questions anyway.

" Star-”

Bix paused. The funny thing was, she should have expected this. All the Avengers were on HYDRA’s list after all, and with good reasons too. But somehow she’d never actually thought this through, considered the implications of her day job and her favourite hobby intermingling like this.

“Stark, Anthony,” she repeated, fighting to keep her voice free of any traitorous inflections. She was a faceless HYDRA goon. She was above such pointless things like emotions. 

She could do this. She was a grown woman for christ’s sake.

“Status: alive. CEO of Stark Industries. Consultant of the Avengers.”

Her voice evened out and Bix could feel her heart rate slow down again. Her mind had no room for guilt, internal conflicts or a rebelling conscience, could not allow for doubt and indecision to sink in and fester. It should be different, today. Rationally Bix knew that, knew that this was what society would expect from her.

But she didn't hesitate and it was _so easy_.

“Threat level: substantial.”

Because there had always been something twisted about her, _inside_ her, years before cold-blooded murderers who pretended to save the world had rubbed her off whatever morality she might have otherwise gained. HYDRA had chosen its minion well. 

“Standing orders: Priority Mission Alpha-One: Protect at all costs. Any collateral damage acceptable." Bix smiled, slow and bloodthirsty. "Repeat."

 

To be fair, HYDRA really should have known better than to hire the blonde girl with the perfectly done nails and the dead, blue eyes.


	2. The Fall-Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't believe you tasered me." 
> 
> Or: In which Stark has been kidnapped, the Winter Soldier is not amused and nobody has any idea what's going on. Except for Bix, who hasn't drunken nearly enough coffee to deal with this shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Really, I don't quite know what to say. You guys' response to the last chapter was just- overwhelming and flattering and actually kind of intimidating (because now there are some serious expectations I have to measure up to). But yeah, thank you! Thank you for every read, kudo, bookmark, subscription and comment! Your enjoyment and support really means the world to me. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH YOU'RE AWESOME!!!
> 
> I'm not sure what else to say, except that I hope you like this chapter and way I've ended things here. Oh, and there is a lot more cussing in this chapter than in the last, because Bix is getting more frustrated the more the story progresses and it shows. In case you're uncomfortable with that I'm sorry, but it's the way I see her character.
> 
> That being said, have fun and enjoy!

**It** ended with a joke.

There was fire and explosives and gun powder. There were screams and blood, _so much blood_ , earth shaking beneath their feet, tortured gasps torn from painfully raw throats. There were blasts and gun shots, slicing through the air like sharp knifes through soft skin. There were lives lost and nightmares born in the terrifyingly efficient motions of a trained killer.

But that came later.

*

The end, the _real_ end, before the sequels and add-ons and cut scenes, came in the form of a joke, dry and bitter, like too black coffee with not enough milk.

And it wasn’t even Bix’ fault.

No, really.

It wasn’t like she could have known that a bat-shit crazy college kid with delusions of grandeur was going to attack New York with a self-designed machine that made it rain cats and dogs. _Vicious_ cats and dogs. Seriously, how did people even come up with this shit?

It wasn’t like Bix could have foreseen the aftermath of that battle either. In spite of all the crazy stuff that had happened lately—An alien invasion? _Really_?—she hadn’t imagined that a bunch of aggressive _kittens_ would be the cause of Captain America’s literal downfall. In the guys defence,it had been hundreds of kittens, but still. 

The fandom was never gonna let him live that down.

Neither was Tony Stark, if the commentary he’d given the CNN girl was any indication. There were reasons why he was Bix’ favourite after all.

Most of the time.

Except for when he made an out-of-the-blue decision to get pancakes at four in the damn morning, instead of having them home-delivered like any other billionaire with more money than common sense would. Because _of course_ that was the exact moment a couple of HYDRA agents had stumbled across the dazed-to-the-point-of-sleep-walking superhero, who had been too out of it to properly defend himself. So, in their infinite wisdom, they had taken him with them.

Again, Bix could be forgiven for neglecting to account for this possibility. Because despite the bragging and posturing of those morons, it was anything but easy to kidnap Tony Stark. There were simply too many terrorist organisations, military forces, governments and plain greedy bastards after him for that. If it had been that easy to get the man, he would have never seen the light of the day again.

Therefore dumb luck was the only logical explanation Bix could come up with. And it still didn’t explain why they had brought him _here_ , into this very building. This was a research facility not a prison, they weren’t designed to keep manic inventors under their control. 

Besides, what were they even thinking, kidnapping Tony Stark like that? When had kidnapping the man ever led to anything good for his captors? Hell, even half-dead and with a bloody car battery in his chest the man had destroyed an entire hideout of the Ten Rings, never mind all the healthy, energised and fully armed men Stark had killed in the process.

As much as Bix liked the fictional fandom version of the guy— _fine_ , she was downright obsessed with it, same difference—she had no desire to face Iron Man in a real fight. Stark didn’t mess around when it came to people he regarded as his enemies. There was a reason HYDRA had been hesitant to directly attack Stark after all. Even in his early hero days they had been wary of him.

HYDRA hadn’t survived this long by starting fights they weren't sure they could win.

Keeping all these facts in mind, it was no wonder that Bix was completely unprepared to come face to face with a cranky, live and in stereo version of her favourite superhero character first thing on an ordinary Tuesday morning. Before she had gotten her daily dose of caffeine.

Someone was _so_ going to die for this.

*

Bix blinked.

The view didn’t change.

Bix blinked again, just to be sure that what she was seeing was actually real and not some sort of early morning induced hallucination. Or a nightmare.

Considering Tony _fucking_ Stark was in her lab, unguarded and bound to her favourite chair, a nightmare seemed to be the most reasonable conclusion.

For an endlessly long moment Bix stood frozen in the entrance, gaping in disbelief at the scene before her. 

(She would have to erase the security tapes later.)

The man’s eyelids fluttered.

“No.”

Bix resolutely turned on her heels and strode out of the room, heading directly towards the closest coffee machine.

It was way too early to deal with this shit.

*

Three shots of espresso, a nice chat with one of the friendlier night guards and three crying interns later, Bix felt something approximately human. She still didn’t feel up to partaking in what would undoubtedly turn into another one of Iron Man’s outrageous adventures, the likes of which tended to end with a pile of dead enemies, a furious villain swearing vengeance and a very much alive superhero.

It wasn’t so much that she begrudged Tony—fandom or reality version—the fun, but considering she had cast herself into the role of a HYDRA goon, his presence didn’t bode well for the length of her estimated life span.

And Bix was definitely, one hundred per cent _not_ okay with that.

She hadn’t spent the last five years of her life sinking into utter obscurity in HYDRA’s ever blackening shadow, just to have a god damn Avenger show up out of nowhere and get her killed off-screen in a decidedly un-epic manner. 

That it happened to be her favourite Avenger just added insult to injury.

The problem was, Bix couldn’t avoid her office forever. Some of the older agents were already starting to take notice, and she really couldn’t allow those lingering glances to turn into outright suspicion. Getting shot for smuggling a—bound and knocked-out—enemy into the facility would suck, especially since she _hadn’t even done it_.

No, she had to get over herself and enter that trice-damned lab again. Wasn’t that what psychologists were always going on about, what with facing your fears and whatnot?

Gently rubbing the tender skin on her temples, where a migraine was bound to start any second now, Bix turned around and grabbed another cup of coffee.

*

Some days, days like today— _definitely_ today—, Bix was convinced that humanity as a whole could never begin to grasp the holy awesomeness that was caffeine. Nor did they seem capable of understanding just how many lives were saved because people like her got their daily dose to keep them calm.

Then she remembered that she was part of a terrorist organisation hell-bent on mass murder, genocide and world domination, and she wisely retracted her previous statement.

Besides even if society as a whole didn’t worship coffee quite as much as it so obviously deserved, Bix was more than willing to make up for it. The prayers she had sent skywards this morning alone explained that nice little ‘obsessive’ remark in her personal file. 

(Which was a good thing, actually. _Nobody_ trusted a HYDRA agent who passed his psych evaluation.)

The point off Bix’ slightly off-topic rant was that confronting Tony Stark again was far easier when she was armed with two large cups of coffee and her best poker face. Or confronting an unconscious Tony Stark, as the case might be.

Staring at the man’s slack face, Bix took a moment to consider her options. Stark hadn’t mysteriously disappeared yet, therefore it seemed reasonable to assume that she would be stuck with him for the foreseeable future. Unless this was a clone or some very realistic plastic doll. 

One could always hope.

On second thought, Bix desperately hoped that this was the actual Tony Stark. With HYDRA you never knew what insane experiment their doctors tried next, and frankly, one Stark was more than enough trouble. Nobody needed an army of them running around.

The world would never survive it.

A low groan from the hopefully human billionaire served as a sharp reminder to Bix that time was abruptly running out on her. She should probably notify the guards before Stark regained full usage of his considerable mental capacities again. Now that she thought about it, Bix should have most likely alerted someone the moment she had first found him in her lab.

Surely that would have been the proper faceless HYDRA goon response?

Taking a small sip from the coffee in her left hand and carefully placing the one in her right on the nearest available surface, Bix allowed herself a moment to contemplate what it was about the Winter Soldier and Iron Man that made her break all the rules for them. 

She didn’t do feelings. She didn’t do hesitation. Really, there was no sensible explanation for her actions when it came to these men and she hated it. And it wasn’t like either one was in the right state of mind to appreciate her efforts.

Stark let out another half sigh, half groan. His eyelids fluttered and this time they opened fully only seconds later. Because unconsciousness wasn’t permanent. Right. She knew that.

“Damn, they got me with the good stuff!” Stark whined. Yes, whined. Under any other circumstances it might have been a sharp barb or an act of casually testing the waters, but as it was his words were too softened by his slurred speech to be anything but a pathetic whine.

Bix’ wide grin at the adorably frustrated glare on Stark’s features was probably inappropriate. 

As was her amused snort.

“Yeah, for some reason the good drugs are reserved for ‘the enemy’”, Bix made no attempt to hide the dry irony in those words, remembering a second too late that _right_ , just because she didn’t believe in any ideology didn’t mean she should announce her lack of faith to the rest of HYDRA. Or Tony Stark, who’s head had snapped up at the sound of her voice. Despite the dilated pupils his eyes were startlingly clear.

“I’m pretty sure that falls under favouritism or something but there isn’t exactly a HR department I could complain to,” Bix forced herself to continue lightly, unwilling to admit any weakness in the face of a man trained to exploit them.

A man who, despite her questionable free-time activities, was the _enemy_ , she reminded herself sternly.

Thankfully Stark’s uncomfortable focus on her eased up after a moment—and no doubt she didn’t want to find out what kind of information the genius had already gathered in that time—and his intense expression shifted into a playful leer Bix’ was much more familiar with. That didn’t make it any less disconcerting though.

“I’m more of an equal opportunity guy myself,” Stark purred. 

Which, honestly, he wasn’t a fucking cat and that so shouldn’t work for him but somehow it did. Bix hated her life. On the bright side, those words were as close to a confirmation of the billionaire’s rumoured bisexuality as she would probably get. And that really shouldn’t bring a grin to her lips, nor should it make her think of-

…It was probably a universal sign to cut back on the smut fics.

Oh well. Bix had never much cared about the universe anyways.

“Is that one for me?”

Startled Bix followed Stark’s gesture towards the second cup of coffee on the unoccupied table to his left, only for her thought process to come to an abrupt, screeching halt.

Because Stark had gestured. With his hands. His _free_ hands. She had a conscious, unbound, genius, kidnapped Tony Stark in her lab, there were machines in here and even some chemicals and none of her test drills had ever included anything like this, what the hell was she supposed to-

This was Tony Stark they were talking about, how the fuck was she supposed to contain this, what-

_He made a grabbing motion towards her coffee._

Bix snapped.

It wasn’t like anyone could blame her. She had never been the most efficient or adaptable person when forced to work under pressure. When one included a far too aware Tony Stark into the equation a mental breakdown was bound to happen. It was inevitable.

In fact, looking back on it later, Bix would be pretty damn proud about how she had instinctively handled the situation. She never did figure out how she had gotten a hold of that taser though.

*

It took another seven minutes for Stark to regain his consciousness. Knocking him out with an unknown amount of that equally unknown drug still in his system might have possibly not been the best decision she had ever made, not that Bix was willing to acknowledge that.

She had wasted enough of her time on this man already. The world didn’t stop turning because of one lousy kidnapping after all, and her current projects wouldn’t complete itself. Not to forget that she had to start the monthly check-up on the intern communication system today, if she wanted to have any hope of finishing it within the next week. And Adler was always such a pain in the ass when someone missed a deadline.

In other words, Stark wasn’t as far up on her list of priorities as he maybe should have been. Not _on_ the clock at least.

And not even when he started pulling on the metal handcuffs she had used to secure him to the chair. Whoever had thought it a good idea to bind Iron Man with a normal rope deserved to be pushed down a set of stairs. Or fifteen.

The metal rattled softly as Stark continued to pull on the on the chains. Bix opened another program on her computer.

“Not much of a bondage fan myself,” Stark eventually broke the silence, his voice deeper and far more suggestive than he had any right to sound, given the situation, “but I suppose for you I could make an exception.”

Bix refused to react to the blatant flirtation that seemed to be coded into the man’s very core design. She wasn’t a supervillain and not even under threat of immediate death would she enter a banter contest with the bored genius behind her. 

Instead she simply sent him her blandest smile over her shoulder, and, once she was absolutely certain his attention was focused on the old laptop lying just outside his reach, she pulled a small notebook out of her pocket and wrote the comment down.

The fanfics that would be born from this prompt would be _glorious_.

  
*

“I can’t believe you tasered me,” Stark stated, for the third time. He sounded oddly delighted by the fact.

Bix didn’t look up from where she typed another line of code into the keyboard.

“I can’t believe it doesn’t happen to you more often.”

Stark’s reflection grinned at her from the computer screen, wide and brittle and surprisingly genuine. 

“Fair point.”

A moment of silence passed, interrupted only by the sound of Bix’ bright pink nails hitting the keys.

Then.

“I still think the reinforced steel manacles are a little excessive though.”

*

The peaceful mood was disrupted by the sound of the entrance door being thrown open hard enough to crash into an ill-placed shelf, causing the metal to shudder ominously.

Bix looked up from where she had been studying the most recent notifications from the Winter Soldier’s newest handler. Stark looked up from where they both pretended he hadn’t been picking the lock on the manacles with a bent paperclip.

She wasn’t impressed by the four men standing there, gaping at the two of them. Then one of them, a burly man with wild, black hair that stuck up in odd places, gestured wildly at the room in general, yelling, “See? I told you we’ve captured Stark!”

Bix raised an eyebrow and shot the billionaire a very pointed look that hopefully conveyed exactly how unimpressed she was with his captor.

Stark grimaced in wordless agreement.

“Yeah,” Stark nodded embarrassed, because he was apparently incapable of _staying wordless_ for any length of time. “Cap's never gonna let me live this down.”

The man that the black-haired guy had been screaming at spluttered. Bix recognised him as one of the less intimidating higher-ups, the kind who dealt more with organisations and structures than assassinations and gory murder.

It was obvious, just from the way the black-haired guy, with the steady support of the other two, continued to rant, that they had been the ones to deposit Stark in her lab and gone on to convince the highest HYDRA agent they could find of their unexpected fortune. 

Why they hadn’t just dragged Stark along as visible proof was beyond Bix. It really wasn’t any wonder the high-up hadn’t believed them. For one she wouldn’t trust these guys with a burned out toaster, never mind a living captive. For another people didn’t just _happen_ to kidnap Tony Stark.

So really, it wasn’t high-up’s fault.

Until he made the mistake of blaming Bix for this mess, that is. Because apparently it had been her obligation to inform the guards, him, Mr. Pierce and the god damn president of the situation yesterday, if you please.

Bix didn’t snap at him. She didn’t even bristle at the accusation. Because Bix didn’t get angry, she got _livid_.

And so she didn’t scream and rage. She blinked, and then she offered the man her sweetest, most vapid smile, the one that shone so bright it always hurt a little in the corner of the eye.

“You could not possibly suggest that!” she gasped in her best impression of Barbie on a sugar-high. “Don’t you know the kind of security this facility has? There are cameras and security guards and everything,” next to her, Stark snorted, but Bix kept a straight face, slowly widening her eyes as though to convey her growing excitement, “there are even palm-print sensors! And retina scanners!”, she gushed.

Then she drew herself up with all the indignation she could muster. “How dare you!” she hissed. “How _dare_ you insinuate that _anything_ could possibly happen within this compound without the head of security’s full approval? How dare you suggest that someone could just- just stroll in here and leave a valuable hostage in a randomly chosen office without his knowledge?”

High-up’s mouth opened and closed multiple times but no sound escaped the man. Clearly he had never dealt with an insulted fan ever before. Which wasn’t that surprising, really. HYDRA’s reputation was atrocious, that didn’t leave much room for a decent fan base.

“I- of course we- notify- that is- immediately- now,” the high-up stuttered, then promptly turned and fled the room.

 

“O-kay,” Stark drawled. “Anyone else think that was weird?”

“‘Course it wasn’t,” Bix answered softly, patiently waiting for the other men to follow the high-up, too occupied with their protests and demands for compensation to pay her any attention. 

“ _He_ ’s the head of security.” 

And though she managed to suppress a smirk, there was no mistaking the vicious satisfaction in her voice.

After all, who would have thought that all those times spent fangirling in front of the TV with her best friend would one day give her the skills needed to survive in a HYDRA base?

*

Two minutes later another high-up burst into the room and stared.

Bix continued to type.

Stark continued to pick the lock on his handcuffs. 

(Bix suspected that he had freed himself some time ago and was now just playing with it until the right opportunity presented itself, but nobody had asked for her opinion, so she kept that thought to herself.)

High-up number two left.

Bix finished another status report on the _Asset_ ’s most recent session with the chair.

The door was thrown open again.

“This is getting old real fast,” Stark commented.

Nobody disagreed.

 

Bix drained the last of her coffee and absently re-scheduled her next session with the Winter Soldier to _as soon as fucking possible_.

It was high time for some normalcy.

*

Come to think of it, Bix wasn’t sure why she had expected the people around her to eventually wise up and get Tony Stark the fuck out of her lab. They could have put him in a cell, a broom cupboard or a damn temple, she really didn’t care.

All Bix cared about was that for some reason, instead of taking Stark _away_ everyone and their cat decided to show up in _her_ lab, crowd _her_ holy space, push _her_ furniture out of the way and fill _her_ air with witless chatter and pointless demands.

Needless to say Bix was not happy.

Some of them at least had a valid excuse for their presence. The guards stationed around Stark for one. No one wanted him to run wild around the compound, that was something everyone could agree on. Unfortunately it also happened to be the _only_ thing everyone seemed to agree on.

Most of the higher ups appeared to argue about whom to contact and what to do next. Some were waving their phones around, which definitely didn’t help anyone, while a poor intern had apparently been forced to collect and present any data from the internet that referred to previous kidnappings of Tony Stark. There were the scientists that had brought the Winter Soldier as she had requested, one of them currently stuck in a screaming match with the canteen lady. Then there were the lower levels who appeared to have come by for the sole purpose of gawking at the proceedings and exchanging unhelpful gossip and bets. Oh, and then there were of course Mark and Bennett from Accounting, who had apparently chosen this moment to break off their not at all secret office romance.

It was loud and confusing, and Bix was fairly sure most people had even forgotten that the Winter Soldier was currently in the same room as they were. Which was a pity, because maybe then they would all keep their fucking mouths shut and let her do her god damn job otherwise.

In short, it was painfully obvious that nobody here was equipped to handle a kidnapping—which was not that surprising, considering they were a _research_ facility—never mind one that involved a superhero.

And at the centre of the entire clusterfuck sat Tony fucking Stark, in her favourite chair no less, admiring the utter chaos his presence had wrought onto the entire HYDRA base, an unholy smile on his face as he- Wait, no. That couldn’t be right. Except-

Yes, he definitely was. Oh, for all that was holy—

The bastard fucking _preened_.

 

Bix hated her life.

*

Even Bix herself couldn’t say what she had expected to happen the moment Stark and the Winter Soldier met for the first time in real life. She had imagined it of course, more often than she could count even, but there had been too many variables to form a reliable conclusion. Too many possibilities. Too many factors even the guy’s handlers still couldn’t predict.

There was a reason why HYDRA hadn’t sent their Asset after Captain America the second the guy woke up seventy years in the future after all.

As it turned out, no matter what it was she had expected, Bix would have been bitterly disappointed by the reality of things.

Because what actually happened when a blank faced Winter Soldier entered the room with three technicians and two handlers in tow, when cold eyes flickered, took in the arguing officials, the curious watchers, the bound captive—calculating, processing, observing—was nothing.

_Nothing_.

It shouldn’t be- _wasn’t_ disappointing.

Really.

*

Commander Morton showed up on the compound two hours later and for the first time in what felt like forever, the lab fell silent.

Bix could have kissed him.

*

By the time order had been restored again, Bix was distantly aware that the amount of coffee she had consumed during the day might soon reach life-threatening heights. She was also painfully aware that Commander Morton was a pompous asshole and kept a not fully re-programmed Winter Soldier at hand just for the chance to frighten Stark. Which was incredibly stupid, no matter which way you looked at it.

(And also decidedly not working.)

Thank god she hadn’t kissed him.

Armed guards had been lined up on both sides of the lab, looking more like henchmen in a disney movie than any serious threat. Of course, the chances of being taken serious by Stark after their initial display of incompetence was at an all time low, not that anyone was willing to acknowledge that.

Morton had started his most recent monologue, and it was really quite impressive considering the man couldn’t have known that he would come face to face with the billionaire until half an hour ago. Then again, his threats weren’t exactly creative and Stark had already taken out three guards when he had suddenly pulled his hands free from the chains. It had taken five more to wrestle him back into place too.

Bix just wished they would take the macho-posturing outside of her lab.

*

In the end, it was a joke.

“Hey, cupcake!” Stark called out suddenly, voice wheezing from the latest blow to the stomach, and eying the Winter Soldier contemplatively. 

The Winter- _Asset_ showed no reaction but that didn’t seem to deter the man.

“Wanna help a man out here and save me from the big, bad HYDRA goons?” Stark continued, careless of Morton’s enraged expression or the fist hitting his temple hard enough that Bix to winced in sympathy. 

His smile when he looked up at his attackers was sharp enough to draw blood. “I could really use a knight in black leather right now- scratch that, black leather knights are always welcome, but especially when they k-“, another blow, another cough, “k-kill my kidnappers. So, how about it, honey butt? You up for some tag team action?”

The Winter Soldier’s expression remained blank. There was no telling if he even understood that he had been addressed, and though Bix doubted it, she never got the chance to find out for sure.

Because in that moment the guy closest to the bound billionaire snarled a vicious (if unimaginative), “Shut up, before I blow your brains out, _Stark_!” and slapped the hostage hard across the face. With his gun.

Dick move, that.

Without conscious thought Bix’ eyes snapped back towards the Winter Soldier, unsure what to expect, what she was waiting for—

_Protect at all costs._

—but breathless in fearful anticipation all the same. And for one agonising, long moment nothing happened. 

Then something flickered in that empty but watchful gaze, a change so small she would have missed it had she not been looking for it. 

There were other signs too, subtle yet noticeable. The slightest hint of tension in the masked man’s shoulders. An instinctive curl of metal fingers. Muscles frozen in tense stillness, seconds before the jump.

It was the only warning they were going to get—and everyone around her seemed far too busy to take the time and see it.

_Protect at all costs._

It had been a joke.

 

Bix was the first one to dive for cover. She was the first one to _laugh_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About WinterIron: I know some of you were hoping for more insight into Tony's thoughts and I'm sorry I couldn't make that happen in this chapter. I've thought really long about it, but in the end I decided that a POV switch just didn't work for me. This was always supposed to be a two-shot and it was always supposed to be Bix who told the story. It felt wrong, somehow, to take that away from her. Besides until the point where the story cuts off, she's literally the only one who actually understands what's going on. It seemed logical to tell it through her eyes.
> 
> That being said I don't want to part with this universe just yet and I do think WinterIron deserves a little more attention than I've managed to give my two darlings in this story. I will write a one-shot sequel in this same universe sometime in the next month or two. And it will be all about Tony and Bucky *rubs hands eagerly*
> 
>  
> 
> You can always reach me on tumblr under [tonystarktogo](http://tonystarktogo.tumblr.com/) or shoot me a message here if you have any questions or just want to chat (or talk WinterIron). And if you enjoyed the chapter, if it made you laugh or even if there's something you'd like me to clear up, please feel free to leave me a comment with your thoughts if you have the time!
> 
> Have a great weekend, everybody, and thank you for giving this fic a chance!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Questionable Drinks And Death Threats](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8017531) by [LiulfrLokison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiulfrLokison/pseuds/LiulfrLokison)




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